Category: Poetry Page 6 of 10

We waited the hours together,

us and the man with the white knitted hat,

pale and often slipping down in his chair he looked desperately ill.

His wife sat tiredly and patiently by his side.

He joined us once again sitting opposite, in the ‘chemo chairs’ the four of us waiting as if for a bus, but really to win further days.

The skilled nurse attached the Cannula to his oh so pale hand, difficult but finally achieved, he smiled a weary smile across at me.

The jaunty white hat seemed to perch on top his shiny pate

far too small and not really doing the job it was intended for.

My heart ached.

I smiled back, while my man was busy being attached to

the life giving elixir that would hopefully give them both extra time?

I offered up my usual prayer.

The man with the white knitted hat whose face was

waxy pale, glanced across at us.

His wife or carer I noticed had swollen ankles,

perhaps from the many hours spent caring and fighting ‘this beast’ that was trying to take her husband from her.

The vials appeared like a sunburst of golden treasures, “it seems  we are travelling the same journey” I said

“Yes, it’s a tough long battle isn’t it” said the man with the white knitted hat.

I turned my eyes to see the beautiful slim brown hands of my beloved, my Father’s ring adorning his  right hand resting on the heated pillow.

Then looking across at the pale transparent hands of our new friend I noticed,

that the first two fingers of his other hand, were tightly crossed.

How my heart ached….

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Addendum:  I learnt that this nice gentleman passed away shortly after this poem was written. He was  indeed a fine Warrior!